


nos. 35 & 1

by petitepeach



Series: prompt fills [2]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Eliott is whipped, Lucas is a tease, M/M, Prompt Fill, some saucy stuff, they both are lbr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19719067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitepeach/pseuds/petitepeach
Summary: for the prompts -"come over here and make me"&"you heard me. take. it. off."





	nos. 35 & 1

**Author's Note:**

> (anon asked for something ~spicy~ and i gave shmoopy teasing why am i like this)

Eliott’s just sat down on the bus when his phone buzzes.

_hey, are you on your way home?_

He feels himself smile at the sight of Lucas’s name, just a little bit, just a small one, but it’s more than he’s done all day. The evening rush was brutal at the restaurant tonight, with dropped plates and rude customers and the head chef having a meltdown inside the walk-in freezer. Eliott lost count of how many times he’d had to grit his teeth, bite back a snappy retort, and instead say, _of course, sir, I’ll have them remake it_ , or _no, that wasn’t a plate I dropped but yes, I can go get the broom and clean it up._

By the time Eliott left, his shoulders were so tight, his face so stony, he was sure he would crack from the faintest hint of pressure.

But he sits on the bus, he sees a text from Lucas, and he can feel himself unclench the tiniest bit.

 _yeah_ , he texts back, _work was beyond shitty. i’m fucking exhausted._

He immediately gets a reply.

_oh fuck i’m sorry_

Then another.

_do you need anything? I can make you some good for when you get here?_

_fuck_

_food**_

Eliott is smiling down at his phone like a fool but Lucas is just. He’s so sweet. He’s always so good to Eliott, always taking care of him.

But he doesn’t need dinner, he ate during his break, and anyway he only wants—

_just need you._

He sends it off without even thinking about it, because he means it. The whole time he was at work, whenever something shitty happened, whenever a customer made a snide remark or his manager said something condescending, he thought about Lucas, thought about how in _four hours, three hours, two hours, one hour, now,_ he will be able to go over to Lucas’s. He will be able to see Lucas again, to touch him and hold him. 

He’d gotten lost in a memory while he was rolling cutlery sets; of how Lucas had looked that morning, drenched in sunlight with Eliott’s sheets tangled around his legs; of how warm he’d been, how sweet he’d tasted when Eliott had kissed him; of how breathy his moans had been when Eliott had mouthed his way down Lucas’s stomach.

His coworker had to call his name three times before he heard her.

It’s all he can ever think about, lately.

He can be at work, in class, walking downtown, sitting on the bus, but no matter what he’s always there at the back of Eliott’s mind. His favourite daydream. _Lucas._

His phone buzzes.

_oh yeah?_

That’s…

Eliott shifts in his seat, licks his lips. 

_yeah. so badly, babe._

It takes a while for Lucas to respond, and while Eliott is waiting the bus stops and two teenage girls get on, sitting across the aisle from him at the back. Eliott has the sudden urge to conceal his phone, as if they could possibly read his texts from over there.

Then, finally, there’s a reply.

_i guess you should get home fast, then_

And there’s a photo attached, and Eliott slams his screen down into his leg before his brain even fully registers it. He sits there like that, phone face-down, not breathing, until he feels it buzz again. He slowly turns it over.

_was that too much? i’ve never done that before_

_is it weird to send pictures like that?_

_eliott?_

Eliott doesn’t respond because opening up the newest messages meant opening up the photo, which means Eliott is now staring, open-mouthed at Lucas, standing in front of the mirror in his room, wearing a button-up shirt Eliott left behind a few days ago.

The shirt hangs loosely on Eliott so it’s massive on Lucas, covering the tops of his thighs, sleeves falling over his hands.

And Eliott can’t be totally sure, but it looks like Lucas isn’t wearing anything under it.

“Fuck,” Eliott whispers to himself, leaning back in his seat. “Oh fuck.”

He is not getting hard on the bus. He is absolutely not doing that. There are _people_ around.

The bus suddenly feels to small, the ride too long, the distance to Lucas too far to even comprehend. There’s a desperate, restless energy coursing through Eliott, a mix of over exhaustion and horniness and anticipation. It comes out of his fingertips, restlessly drumming against the seat in front of him, on the tops of his knees, against the back of his phone. 

He almost misses his stop with how distracted he is, with how he keeps thinking about the picture on his phone but not opening up his phone and instead staring straight ahead and _tap, tap_ , tapping his fingers.

He presses the _Stop_ button and shoots up from his seat, ignoring the looks the two girls send his way.

Eliott practically sprints from the bus stop to Lucas’s place, nearly loses it from how long the elevator ride feels, bouncing on his toes on the spot.

Lucas’s door is unlocked, and that’s good, that’s perfect, because Eliott is bursting through it, and the first thing he sees when he enters the apartment is Lucas, coming out of the living room carrying an empty mug and his phone.

His hair is mussed, he’s barefoot, and he’s wearing the shirt.

“Oh.” Lucas’s eyes are wide as he takes in Eliott, standing in his doorway. “Hi.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Eliott breathes.

Lucas blinks. He looks down at himself. “Uh, yeah, I don’t know why I sent that, I woke up from a nap and I found this shirt and I dunno…I was feeling a bit…well, whatever, that’s why I usually don’t try to…” His voice trails off into an awkward cough as he looks up, and Eliott can see his blush even from how far away he is.

Lucas turns, starts heading into the kitchen, and Eliott trails after him.

“Lucas,” he says, and there must be something in his voice, something that makes Lucas look up from where he’s put the mug down into the sink.

When he doesn’t say anything, Lucas prompts, a bit testily, “What?”

“You…” Eliott lets his eyes roam, indulgent, from the top of Lucas’s head all the way down to his toes. “You have no idea,” he says, and it feels right because he doesn’t think Lucas does. Lucas has no idea what he does to Eliott, how much he affects him. He has no idea how lucky Eliott is, how grateful Eliott is that, somehow, the universe decided that he could have this.

Lucas’s head is tilted, considering. The kitchen is dark, and his eyes are deep pools of blue-black. “Did you…did you like it?”

“Lucas. I almost got hard on the _bus_ ,” Eliott says, pained, and Lucas tilts his head back to giggle.

“Well. Okay,” Lucas says, noticeably pleased, the blush back in full force on his cheeks.

And suddenly, Eliott needs to touch him. Needs to _touch_ him. 

“You can send me a picture like that whenever you want, Lucas. Literally whenever you want, and I have to tell you, you look so fucking good in that shirt, but I also have to tell you I need you to take it off right now.”

Lucas balks. “What?”

“I’m serious. I need you naked like, right now.”

Lucas lets out a surprised bark of a laugh. His eyes are teasing when he slowly drags his fingers down the buttons of the shirt. “Is that so? If I had known you would get this riled up, I would have—”

“You heard me.” Eliott’s voice is quiet but stern, even to his own ears. He can see the way it makes Lucas’s mouth drop open. “Take it off.”

Lucas freezes for a moment, but then his mouth snaps shut, and he plants his hands on the counter behind him, eyes challenging. His voice is all sunshine-tinted teasing and moonlit tremors when he says, “Come over here and make me.”

Eliott’s feet carry him over before he even realizes he’s moving, hands flexing at his sides with the closing distance, with the promise of, _I’m going to feel him, now, now,_

Now.

Eliott’s hands are sliding around Lucas’s waist, to the small of his back, bunching up the soft material of the shirt with the motion. It feels so good on Lucas, and Eliott already knows he won’t be able to wear this shirt anymore, will probably be rendered useless by the feeling of the material against his own skin.

Lucas is standing on his toes, eyes closed and ready for a kiss, and Eliott doesn’t even think about denying him.

It’s slow and deep, both of them sighing into it, Lucas moving his hands from the counter to grip tightly onto Eliott’s waist. It’s overwhelming, so easy to get lost in, and Eliott pulls back to take a breath, to get his bearings, but he stays close, close enough that their mouths are still brushing together when Eliott starts to unbutton the shirt.

“You are…so…fucking…beautiful.” Eliott murmurs, each word punctuated by another button opening. Lucas exhales shakily against Eliott’s chin. “I can’t believe you’re mine,” Eliott continues, hands moving slowly downwards. “Can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Lucas whispers. “Eliott, you—”

“I love you,” Eliott says, finally reaching the bottom of the shirt, opening the last button and then running his hands up Lucas’s soft skin, catching on the waistband of the briefs he’s wearing. 

Lucas is panting now, small gasps of warm breath Eliott can almost taste. _I love you too_ , Lucas mouths back, and Eliott is leaning down for another kiss, Lucas’s lips just parting under his, when Lucas disappears from his arms.

Eliott stands there, blinking stupidly at the space that was previously occupied by a boy with soft skin and soft lips and soft hair and now is nothing more than cold air between his fingers.

“What…” He says dumbly, turning to see Lucas backing into the hallway. The shirt is slipping off of Lucas’s left shoulder, fanning out around his thighs and his eyes are hooded and his smile is wicked and he really is a dream. Lucas is the best dream Eliott’s ever had.

“I don’t know about you,” Lucas is saying, still taking slow backwards steps, “but I’m going to my bedroom.” Eliott’s face must look lost, because Lucas laughs. “You can come too, if you want.”

 _If he wants_. Eliott takes three long strides forward, and bends at the waist, wrapping his arms around Lucas’s knees, and in one smooth motion tipping him over his shoulder as he stands, picking Lucas up off of the ground.

Lucas shrieks out an _“Eliott!”_ but he’s also laughing and Eliott is laughing and they disappear into Lucas’s bedroom like that, a mess of laughter and indignant yelling and flailing limbs.

The door slams behind them, but all of the kinetic energy in the apartment, charged and alive, lingers, the blue of the night sky turning electric, the very shadows stretching across the kitchen floor seeming to dance.

(This is what dreams do.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! <3
> 
> on tumblr [@lepetitepeach](https://lepetitepeach.tumblr.com)


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